


I'm thinkin' about my doorbell (When ya gonna ring it?)

by Caivallon



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-22 23:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caivallon/pseuds/Caivallon
Summary: „So… today’stheday.”Dylan doesn’t even look up, just continues cleaning the brushes and his workplace, still wearing his black gloves. “You’ve been saying this for three weeks now.”“Yeah, but today itreallyis.”
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Mitch Marner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	I'm thinkin' about my doorbell (When ya gonna ring it?)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing I came up with... and because I always wanted to do a graphic for this trope. I posted this on tumblr a couple of weeks ago but since there are so few stories for this pairing here I decided to post it here as well. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine, no one else to blame. I hope you like it anyway >.< 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/x44IUbn)  


**I'm thinkin' about my doorbell (When ya gonna ring it?)**

„So… today’s _the_ day.”

Dylan doesn’t even look up, just continues cleaning the brushes and his workplace, still wearing his black gloves. “You’ve been saying this for three weeks now.”

“Yeah, but today it _really_ is.”

“Great, can’t wait for you to talk even more about him.” 

“Wait ‘til you fall in love.”

“God help me if I ever make a fool of myself like you.” 

Mitch flips him off and grabs his wallet. Dylan is an asshole friend without one romantic bone in his body and deserves to die alone and unhappy as much as Mitch is concerned.

__

Mitch used to love the little bell above the door of the flower shop, the homey feeling it provided, has been trying to persuade Dylan to get one for their tattoo parlor, too. 

But lately, he has been so nervous that he always flinches in surprise at the jingling sound even though he should be used to it. Thankfully, today Willy isn’t here to mock him (Mitch watched the other side of the street the whole afternoon to make sure of that).

Instead it’s a deeper voice with a hint of accent that greets him from the back of the store and that skyrockets his heartbeat and his blood so much that he can instantly feel his cheeks turning red as he approaches the door to the greenhouse where Freddie’s big shape is crouched over the shelves with his cacti.

At least in here, the air is hot and dry so he can blame his flush on the temperatures and not on sight of the broad back and amazing ass that played the leading part in all his current daydreams.

“Hi, Mitch,” Freddie stands and wipes his earth-stained hands on his apron; they are huge, and Mitch’s mouth suddenly goes dry. “You just missed Willy, he’s out for deliveries.”

“Oh… “ He tries to sound sad, but let’s face it, he won’t get the Oscar for this performance. 

“You’re really unlucky lately. This has to be the third time this week that you missed him.”

“That’s okay, I came for you anyw— I mean, I came for some of your cacti.” Wow, one minute of talking and Mitch is already praying for the ground to swallow him. That must be a new record. But he can’t help the stuttering when Freddie looks like that: khakis and a white shirt that is stretched thin around his upper arms. There is a smudge of dirt on his chin and his hair is messy, curled in his neck from the sweat that Mitch would die to lick it away or see under many different and horizontal circumstances. He’s aware that he must sound shallow but it’s not only because Freddie is super hot, he’s also kind and patient and sweet; never doing more than rolling his eyes at either Willy’s or Kas’ shenanigans, never bothered by even the loudest kids that are running around the shop while their mum’s take ages to pick their plants while they trying to flirt with him. 

“Another cactus?” He sounds amused. “You either have the worst case of a black thumb I’ve ever seen or really fucked up with your boyfriend.” 

“With my— I don’t understand.” Mitch is confused.

“That dark-haired guy you run the studio with? You seem super close so I… Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed.” Freddie flinches and looks so embarrassed that Mitch actually feels bad and hurries to help him out.

“Oh no, it’s okay, don’t worry, you’re right. I mean we’re super close. Not the— not the boyfriend thing, obviously.“ 

„**Obviously**.“ Freddie repeats deadpan, but then his gaze gets softer and he smiles. This small twitch at the corner of his mouth that is even more special when it’s because of Mitch.

„Yeah, we’re just friends and I’m just—”

„Into cacti?“ 

Freddie’s smile is small but so cute and endearing and his eyes are so dark and beautiful, that Mitch can’t do anything but nod. 

“Yeah, I’m **really** into cacti.” 

__

„Don’t say a word.“ Mitch closes the door and leans against. 

Dylan doesn’t even look up. 

„So I guess it wasn’t **the** day.“ 

„I said. Not. A. Word.“ 

„**That** bad?“

„**Worse**. A nightmare. My funeral.“ He walks over and leans over Dylan’s shoulder to inspect his design for their next costumer’s tattoo, cuddling up against him before he sneakily puts down the little flower pot on the desk. 

„Not another one.“ Dylan groans. “Honestly, Mitch, this has to stop. People gonna mistake us for a flower shop if you buy more of those.” 

“It’s the last one, promise. Tomorrow, tomorrow’s the day, I know it.” 

“If you show up with another one, I swear I’m gonna walk over there an’ ask him out for you.” 

There’s a low cough coming from the entrance door, followed by footsteps coming closer. And Mitch doesn’t have to turn around to know them. To know that voice. With that accent. 

„Ask out whom?“

All color bleeds from his face. And if he thought he wished for a hole to sink in before he would die for one right now.

They **really** should’ve gotten a doorbell. 

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♥ 
> 
> As much as I know Dylan has no tattoos so he’s probably not the best choice but I love him and I couldn’t picture someone else in this. 
> 
> I’m on [ **tumblr** ](https://miss-malheur.tumblr.com/) and always up to talk about these or other hockey playing idiots.


End file.
